And We All Grow Up
by chase the rain
Summary: As Bella juggles her final year of high school, taking care of her brother and avoiding her dad's girlfriend, 21 yo Edward steps into her life, a child in tow and no idea how to raise him. A story about change, about first love, about self-discovery and growing up. Short chapters and a few minor changes... ExB/AH/AU/Rated T until further notice.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. The plot of this Fanfic belongs to me. **

**BPOV**

**1**

"Sue said you have to give me five dollars," says Emmett.

The wind pulls the door shut behind me and I bolt it for good measure. Take off my coat and boots and let my school bag fall to the floor. Drop my keys on the side table.

Emmett trails after me as I head into the kitchen. I pull out a bag of frozen fries and a box of fish fingers. A pan of oil is set on the stove to heat and I wash my hands at the sink. Emmett sits at the table; his feet swing and his face settles in the cradle of his folded arms.

"Sue said –"

"Don't call her that."

"But that's her name."

"You have to call her 'Mom'."

"But she's not my mom!"

I slit the bag of fries and empty a quarter of it into the pan. That's enough for Em and me. I add five fish fingers – three for him and two for me. They crisp and brown almost immediately. I drain them on a sheet of newspaper and they're transferred to a plate.

A minute of blessed silence and then –

"Can I have five dollars? I wanna get some chips from the corner store," Emmett says. His feet swing vigorously under the table, like it's a sport. His socks are odd, faded. The oil crackles and I drain the fries, put them on a plate. Set them in front of Em. He eats with his fingers; no salt or ketchup. I steal a fry and turn to head upstairs.

Emmett whines: "Wait, Bee, I want water!"

I turn slowly and fill a glass with water. Set it carefully beside his plate and watch as he takes a tiny sip. I make it as far as the door before he says, "Bee, I want more fries."

His plate is almost full. The kitchen is warm and quiet. The rest of the house is cool, silent. Empty but for Sue's sleeping form upstairs.

"Finish those first." I head into the entryway, grab my bag, bring it to the kitchen. My books fan out on the wood across from Em. He sees the papers, the textbooks and pens rolling towards him. He smiles happily and begins to eat with gusto, safe in the knowledge that I haven't left him. That I haven't reassured him with a plate of food and a promise to be back in a second, I just need to check on the baby, only to walk out the front door with a pre-packed bag and a child, never to be seen again. I think of our mom.

Outside, it begins to rain.

**First fanfic, short chapters, confusing storyline.**

**Ready?**


	2. Chapter 2

**BPOV**

**2**

"I think I'm pregnant."

I look at Rose and she stares back at me solemnly.

"You slept with him once," I say and fill out the equations on the worksheet.

"Not so loud!" she hisses, and then, "Twice, actually."

I glare at her a little, stung. She tells me everything. I tell her most things. Things she needs to know.

"Chill. I barely remember it. Only the waking-up-in-the-morning part."

"Does James know?"

She's gone quiet. I stare at her. Raise my eyebrow. She's not looking at me. Suddenly, the back of Mike Newton's head seems to hold all the answers to life's questions.

"Rose," I say, gently, because it's the only thing that'll work with her. "Does James know?"

When she looks at me again, her eyes are glassy. She shakes her head.

"He doesn't know?"

"No…" she looks away again. "I don't think it's –"

"Oh Rose."

The bell screams and I pack my things away. Neatly because I'm still trying to grasp what she's told me. We are silent as we leave the classroom and step out into the torrent of teenagers. We follow the crowd on their way to the cafeteria. I pull Rose into the girl's room and check to make sure it's empty. Lock the door behind us. She sits on a toilet and bawls. I unroll toilet paper and soak it in warm water before wiping it across her face. I don't say anything and neither does she until the tears have stopped and she's left with hiccups.

"It was a mistake, Bella. I've been lonely. The parents are in New York, or Paris, or London and I went to a party. James didn't come. He was at home, studying he said. I had too much to drink and Royce… he kept staring at me, and James never looks at me like that, all intense and –"

I watch her until she realises I'm not saying anything. "I thought you said it was a mistake."

"It is, it is!" she says hurriedly, her face purple and red. "I just…I'm confused!"

Her face, though discoloured, remains pretty. Not a single blonde hair is out of place and there isn't a crease in her crisp white Oxford. Her black Mary-Jane's are shiny. She is the very picture of golden schoolgirl. But her eyes burn with sadness and her tie is fastened too tightly and there could be a brand-new human growing inside her.

We leave when a gaggle of girls filter in, their giggles echoing off the walls, hallow and shrill.


	3. Chapter 3

**BPOV**

**3**

"Sugar!" I hiss as my backside meets the floor. _Fudge, _but that hurt. My textbooks land beside me. Next lesson's homework flutters into my lap. Looming in front of me is a striking boy. No, a man. He's scowling. Tattoos crawl up both his arms, round his neck and disappear under his brusque white shirt. Black suit trousers cling to lean legs. The impact of our collision leaves me staring up at him, dumbfounded and embarrassed. A stream of freshmen trickle past, snickering and shooting sideways glances at us.

I pick my books up and resist the urge to rub my sore bottom. Green eyes are staring down at me, amused and annoyed. The owner of those eyes only watches as I gather my school supplies and dignity. Books are shoved into my bag – there's no time for neatness. I'm late for class. Cavanaugh won't say a thing. I'm a good student. I've done the homework.

I turn without a backwards glance at Green Eyes. Don't even look when he calls once I'm at the end of the hallway. I head to art class. Mr Cavanaugh has started the lesson. He's handing out worksheets and assigning groups for a project. I slink into my seat and he gives me a quick nod and smile, no questions. I like him. He's cool.

I'm put with Lauren Mallory, an elegant black girl, and Angela Webber, whose Korean beauty startles me. We are sent to the library to research artists for our project. Our theme is 'family', assigned by Cavanaugh. We pull books down and settle into a corner of quiet behind some shelves. I take notes and start a list of artists who need more attention. Lauren jots down the names of paintings and painters and Angela pores over the books with a thoughtful frown.

I like it, the quiet, untainted by meaningless chatter and void of awkwardness. We finish five minutes before the final bell rings and exchange phone numbers.

On my way out, I catch a glimpse of Green Eyes. He's wearing the matching suit jacket now. Principal Dalloway faces him and laughs at something Green Eyes says. I head out the door and to my car. Launch my bag into the backseat and turn the heater on. Head to Forks Elementary.

Emmett is waiting in the reception. I check the time – 3:05 PM. Forks Elementary ends at the same time as Forks High, which is why Sue normally picks Em up. She claimed a migraine would keep her in bed all day.

I open the car door and strap Emmett in.


	4. Chapter 4

**BPOV**

**4**

"Guess what, Bee!" says Emmett excitedly.

I hum in response and search through the pile of clothes for a matching sock.

"There's a new kid at school. He's got weird hair and weird eyes and wears weird clothes and eats weird –"

"That's enough, Em. What have I told you? You shouldn't be mean to people just because they are different from you," I say and fold a shirt that belongs to Dad.

"I know, but this guy –" says Emmett and exhales a world-weary sigh. "He's only four, Bee, practically a _baby_."

I roll my eyes and smirk. "You're only five, Em."

"Nu-_uh_! Five and a _half_," he corrects me and I nod mock-solemnly.

It's Friday night and I'm doing laundry. Meatloaf is in the oven and groceries have been put away. I do a mental checklist of all the things I still have to do. Clean up my room. Help Emmett clean up his. Dust the living room. Change the bed sheets. Find Emmett's soccer kit for tomorrow.

Yeah, my social life is non-existent.

In the hallway, my cell phone rings. Emmett runs to get it, picks it up, says, "Hi Dad." He scowls and shoves it into my hand.

"Dad?"

"I'm working late at the hospital tonight; got an emergency. Don't wait up," he says. No greeting, no how was school or have you done your homework?

"OK." I exhale heavily. Hang up and taste the anger in my mouth. Emmett looks at me, chewing his bottom lip. The oven timer's shrill trill leads me into the kitchen. The meatloaf is on the table. I remove one of the four plates, pick up the glass and cutlery that was beside it, put them back on the shelf.

In the living room, the pile I had made of Dad's clothes has been knocked over. I glance over at Emmett. He's sitting on the couch, pressing buttons on the remote control. The TV is turned off; his legs are still. I pull him up gently, lead him into the kitchen and place a slice of meatloaf on his plate. He stares at his plate, at the heaped mound of peas I've just piled on and the baby carrots. He stands the carrots up by poking one end into the meat and attempts to balance a pea on top of each one. The peas tumble and roll off his plate, onto the table, onto the floor.

"Jared's moving away. I'll have no one to play with," says Emmett quietly. He stares at his plate and cuts the meatloaf into halves and then halves again and again until he's left with minced meat. "Why is everyone leaving me?"

I stare at him and swallow. Say, "What about the new boy? You can play with him."

Em frowns. "He's weird."

**A/N: **

**Thank you to everyone who is reviewing/putting me on their alerts/favouriting, I'm really greteful that my writing is being appreciated. I have 600+ readers but only 8 reviews? Come on guys, a little feedback would go a long way ;)**

**Also, future updates will not be as quick as these first few chapters; I have only posted quickly because I want to set the scene and introduce all the themes in this fic. It might be a slow burn but stick with me! **

**Thank you for reading.**


	5. Chapter 5

**BPOV**

**5**

**Did you do it? –B**

**Yes –R**

…**And? –B**

**And what? –R**

**Are you pregnant or not? –B**

**I don't know. –R**

**? –B**

**I freaked and ran out the house before I could check! :( -R**

I clench my cell phone between my thighs as Mr Dawson makes his way between the desks. A few seats in front of me is Rose, her back straight and tense. I will her to turn around with the sheer force of my burning gaze.

She arrived to class late, giving Newton the chance to grab the seat next to me. I would have told him off but then Rose came in, breathless and coatless, drenched from the rain, and took the seat at the front of the room. Dawson glances over my work, grunts noncommittally and moves on.

Newton presses up against my leg like a dog. He's wearing too much cologne, or aftershave, and it is cloying. I taste it in my throat, my mouth, my nose. I shift away from him. He moves closer. I lean back and wrinkle my nose. Turn my head and take a breath of dusty, classroom air.

I'm going to kill Rose. I spend the last half hour of class devising new and creative ways in which to use my freshly sharpened pencil. Newton sniffs my hair. The bell shrieks and I'm up in an instance, hawk eyes on Rose. She throws her books in her bag and makes it to the door before I catch hold of her shoulder bag and trail after her. She tries to throw me off; I hold on until we reach an empty stretch of corridor. She swings her bag onto the unpolished floor. Bends at the knee and slides down beside it.

I take out a flask of coffee and hold it aloft. Say with a raised eyebrow: "Can you drink coffee?"

She glares up at me. "I don't know."

I sigh, pour some into the lid of the flask, hold it out to her. She takes it with a flicker of thanks in her eyes; drinks half of it in one slurp. And then opens the floodgates. I crouch beside her and pull her head to my shoulder. It's not awkward; I'm used to comforting Emmett after a scraped elbow, bloody knee, bruised shin, estranged mother.

Rose makes my shoulder wet and snotty. I murmur words of comfort because that's what she needs. Sue calls me, says she is picking Emmett up. We miss last period and I drive Rose home.

**A/N:**

**I'd like to clear some things up: firstly, 'Bee' is Emmett's nickname for Bella. I dislike the other nicknames she is given i.e. 'Bells' and 'Belly' so I chose something different; secondly, Bella and Emmett are brother and sister - their mother does not live with them but Sue, who is their dad's girlfriend, does. Thirdly, the POV will always be Bella's unless I specify in an author's note before the pertaining chapter. And in case anyone was wondering, Bella is 18, Emmett is 5 and all the other ages will be revealed in future chapters.**

**Thank you for all the kind comments/favourites/alerts, they are much appreciated.**


	6. Chapter 6

**BPOV**

**6**

I'm helping Emmett put his coat on when Green Eyes swaggers into the cloakroom, hair windswept and cheeks flushed. I try not to stare as he strides past me and into Emmett's class.

"I think that's Mason's dad," whispers Emmett loudly.

"Mason?" I zip him up and help him do up the toggles. We forget his scarf and have to start over again.

Em rolls his eyes, says, "_Mason, _the new kid. I told you about him." I remember and watch him put his coat on. He eases the zipper up, struggles with the toggles, huffs out a sigh. I kneel to help him and almost have a heart attack.

"_What is this_?" I say, outraged. I hold up the silver foil packet. It is small and square. Fell out of his pocket.

"Bee!" hisses Emmett and moves to grab it. I stand up and hold it up. Glare down at him until he looks away with a scowl.

"Explain, Emmett."

"Mason gave it me!" he yells.

"What the hell, Emmett!" I snap. "Do you guys even know what it is? Where did he get it from?"

"I don't know! He said he found it at home and said I can have it because we're best friends now and we can blow it up in recess tomorrow 'cause it's a balloon but we have to keep it a secret because it's a grown up balloon and kids aren't allowed it and that's why his dad hided it in his sock drawer and then Mason found it and gave it to me. So that means it's mine and just because you're a grown up doesn't mean you can have it all to yourself because sharing is caring!" Emmett finishes with a huff of self-righteousness and an indignant raise of his chin.

I chew words in my mouth and part my lips to let them out. Arrogant throat-clearing precedes Green Eyes' appearance in the doorway. At his feet is a boy who looks no bigger than a toddler, dressed in an oversize puff coat, his small face drowning in the drawn up hood. He clutches a Spider-Man backpack in one fist.

"Mason!" shouts Emmett happily. I stare at the boy and then at Green Eyes. The latter stares back, face carefully blank, throat working visibly. I march over to him and thrust the foil packet in his face. Say: "From what I've heard, I think this belongs to you." His eyes are clearer than I originally thought, lashes darker than his hair, the colour of tarnished pennies. He takes the unopened condom from me without touching my fingers; puts it in his pocket. Loosens his scarf and puts a hand on the boy's shoulder.

I grab Emmett and go. The boy looks up as we leave, a carbon copy of Green Eyes.

**A/N:**

**More next year. Have a good one!**

**Thanks for reading.**


	7. Chapter 7

**BPOV**

**7**

Lauren rushes into the library wearing a ferocious scowl and four inch spike heel boots. Angela and I stare as she manoeuvres around the chairs and tables, graceful and gorgeous as a sleek black panther. She slides into the seat across from us and glares at a painting of sunflowers. Rips her white leather jacket off and dumps her designer bag on the desk.

Angela frowns prettily, says: "Lauren, are you alright?" in such a gentle, genuinely concerned voice that it makes Lauren pause, look up, face soften.

"Yeah…just – y' know – _boy trouble ," _she says, rolls her big fathomless eyes, trying to pull off nonchalance. I see her tense shoulders, her blazing eyes.

"Ah," says Angela, nodding solemnly. Like she understands. I keep quiet, desensitized to the awkwardness my inexperience with boys has in a conversation like this. Rose has gone through so many boyfriends with me as her wingman, as the referee, as the mediator and shoulder to cry on, that I no longer blink and fumble when girls talk.

"Want to talk about it?" Angela again. I flip through art books and note references. Angela puts down her pen, leads forward to listen, attentive and looking like she's ready to take notes too.

Lauren clears her throat, shakes out her dark hair. Straightens the books out and lines up the pens in order of size.

"We've been goin' out for a couple weeks now. Me and Jazz – you know Jasper Whitlock? Crazy white boy in senior year, all surfer-hot? He's the lead drummer and singer in a local band me and my girls went to see last month. I never really noticed him at school, y' know? But then we got talkin' at a gig he did at my dad's place – y' know _Mallory's _in Port Angeles? I told him his music was good and he said _I _looked good and then we got talkin' music. I sing a little, nothin' serious, but he wants to write a song with me, a duet." Lauren pauses, her lips pursed into a frown. The anger is still in her posture but her shoulders sag with sadness. "We're gettin' kinda serious."

"Then what's the problem?" Angela asks quietly.

"His family." Lauren's mouth forms a wry grimace. "His parents moved here from Texas a bunch of years back. He's told me all about them – their tryna convince him it's not the colour of my skin that bothers them. They're makin' out like he's got some girl back home. But we all know what it's really about. You heard about them protests a couple years ago? Against Obama?" Angela and I nod, my books forgotten. I remember the protests; it had been all over the news, the picket signs and racist slurs, the angry faces and trampled families. Houses and property vandalised, defaced. Arson attacks on businesses owned by black families. "It was funded by them – by his parents. They were the brain behind the op."

Lauren stops talking; we join the books in their silence.

**A/N:**

**Sorry Alice/Jasper fans, you won't find any of that here - keep reading and you'll find out why ;)**

**Events described in the last paragraph are completely fictional and used only for the purpose of this story - I don't mean to offend anyone or create political controversy; it is all merely for creative purposes. **


	8. Chapter 8

**BPOV**

**8**

"Hide me!" I step swiftly in front of Rose and glance around surreptitiously. She quivers, tenses, behind me. Royce King swerves past us on his motorcycle, wearing sunglasses, no helmet. He sees me, or looks in our direction, turns the engine off. Right there on the sidewalk, in everybody's way. He climbs off, straightens out his shirt. Pauses to light a cigarette and begins sauntering towards us.

"Evacuate, evacuate," Rose hisses. We edge along the sideway and then run for the front doors of Forks High madly. The wind slaps me in the face like a catty girl. We reach the steps and hurl ourselves up and over, through the doors and into the hallway.

We look at each other, slightly breathless and silent. Then we mentally replay what just happened and start laughing, hard and loud. Royce makes his way inside. Leans up against the lockers right across from us and scowls, oblivious, or ignorant to the ash that flakes away from his cancer stick. We laugh harder and louder and clutch each other desperately. I try to calm myself as people linger by, staring and rolling their eyes and whispering with smirks.

The first bell rings, warning us that we have five minutes to get to class. The hallway becomes a rush and Rose and I are pushed into the middle as people surge around us, opening and closing lockers, talking with friends. We are still giggling when I see Green Eyes standing by Principal Dalloway's office, watching me with an arrogant smirk. I shut up immediately and draw myself up; nudge Rose and tilt my head. We both stare back at Green Eyes. He is wearing another suit. I try not to notice how good it looks on him. Rose does not.

"Damn," she whispers, eyeing him appreciatively. "Now that is what I call _eye_ _candy_."

I shake my head and turn away. Watch as Royce slides away from the locker and right up to Rose's shoulder. I give him a warning look and his mouth quirks up cockily. He tugs the ends of Rose's hair until she snaps around and glares at him with a fire in her eyes that surprises me. It does not surprise him. He whispers something I am not supposed to hear but hear anyway.

"You didn't come last night." Rose shivers. I stare. She turns away and walks down the hallway without a word, but I know my phone will buzz in lesson.

"I waited for you," says Royce quietly and slinks into the crowd. I watch Green Eyes make his way through the swarm of High School kids. I brace myself as he drifts past me and turns the corner. I am left untouched.


	9. Chapter 9

**BPOV**

**9**

I go and look for Rose halfway through our lunch hour. We normally meet at the steps at the front of Forks High, but she sent me a text saying she had to go to detention in Principal Dalloway's office for talking back to a teacher.

In the cafeteria, kids throng. Claustrophobia-inducing just looking at them. On a table nearby sits Lauren, typing away on her phone furiously. I consider going over, asking how things are with Jasper. Lauren looks up as a tall figure strides through the cafeteria. Blond, sky-blue eyes, lean from sport. Jasper Whitlock. He heads straight for Lauren. Sits in the chair across from her and says something, quietly, urgently, intense eyes. Lauren's face falls; they both get up and he leads her through the glass doors, her hand in his, black and white. Some people stare. Everyone talks.

I turn to leave but the window catches my eye. It overlooks the parking lot and sidewalk that surrounds it. Through the glass, I see Rose, walking quickly with her head down. She jumps onto the motorcycle behind Royce and he passes her a helmet. He didn't have one before. I remember his friends have motorcycles too and they must have given it to him. Does that mean they know about Rose and Royce? I watch as he pulls his sunglasses on. Rose piles her hair under the helmet. If someone was to turn around now and look out the window, out across the parking lot and at the couple on the bike, they would see two slim figures. Rose is no longer recognisable. Royce starts the engine and peels out of the parking lot.

I sit in the library for the rest of lunch. My books are put on the table in the quiet area where Lauren, Angela and I sat for our art project research. I am pretending to do my homework when Angela appears from around the bookshelves. She smiles happily when she sees me and I can't help but return the smile.

"Hey, Bella," she says in her gentle voice. "I'm glad I've found you. I was wondering whether you are free tonight. I was thinking we could meet up to start work on our art project?"

She looks hopeful and I think about my plans for tonight. Homework. Giving Emmett a bath. Making dinner. Laundry. Giving Sue her pills.

"Sorry Angela, but I have to look after my brother," I say and I'm surprised to hear the genuine apology in my voice.

"Oh, that's OK; you can bring him round to my house. I have a brother and a sister who are twins and I think they're all in the same class at Forks Elementary," says Angela, still smiling.

I agree and we meet after school to pick the kids up; Bruce and Jackie fight over the front seat of Angela's car. Within the first ten minutes of arrival at their house, Emmett and Bruce announce their pledge of friendship to each other.


	10. Chapter 10

**BPOV**

**10**

Green Eyes has a name. Well, a proper name. _Edward Cullen. _Forks High's new music teacher. He got the job fast; rumour whispers itself through school: the majority of the student body, sceptical as they hear the news of the newest teacher, declare Green Eyes has connections with Principal Dalloway. Despite this reasonable possibility, most girls, few boys, have fallen under his spell. His latest fan is Rose.

She gushes over him like a river.

"He's so fit, all those straining muscles, I bet he works out. And those _tattoos, _God, they make him look so _bad boy! _Don't even get me started on his eyes…I swear he was looking at me the other day, did I tell you, Bella? I was standing outside the music room…" And on and on. She mentions his smirk, that half-arrogant, half-amused twist of the lips that I have come to recognise as his signature smirk. He has dimples but so has Emmett; I am immune to his charm. Mostly.

Rose and I don't speak about the day she bailed on me and rode off with Royce on his motorcycle. We avoid talking about the two of them altogether. She has stopped telling me everything. I remember the old, sleepless nights listening to her long monologues over the phone. Detailed conversations of James, of that night with Royce on the first Friday of the first week back to school. That was a couple of months ago. She's had flings in the past; many, many flings, countless crushes. And then in junior year, she acquired James. 'Acquired' because they treat each other like possessions. She tries to convince us that he controls her, that he hates seeing her with other guys, hates her friends. But the river flows both ways.

At lunch, I find myself sitting with Angela in our quiet corner of the library. I text Rose. Let her know where I am. Ten minutes later, no reply. Forty-five minutes later, I realise I have forgotten her, so engrossed am I in Angela's gentle anecdotes. I pull out my phone while she sneaks a bite of sandwich under the table. We are unseen but still, she is cautious. I pull out my phone. Check my message; no reply. Turn back to Angela, say: "How are Bruce and Jackie?" I can't help but smile at their names.

Angela smiles too and it is tender, eyes soft, face clear.

"They're good, thank you. Bruce and Emmett have made a little club with another little boy and Jackie has the honour of being the only girl allowed to join."

I smile. Wonder about the little boy. "Mason Cullen," I say out loud. Angela's face brightens.

"Yes, that's the boy's name. Apparently, he moved here a couple of weeks ago. New state, new town, new school. Poor kid." Angela shakes her head with honest pity.

"New state?"

"They're from Chicago, I've heard."

"Have you met him?"

Another tender smile. "Briefly, when I went to pick the kids up. Cute kid." Gives me an unexpectedly sly smile. "Unsurprising, really; I saw Mr Cullen pick him up. They look so alike."

"Hmm."

"He looks too young to be a father though. Ben's in his music class and Mr Cullen told them he was twenty-one years-old. Imagine that! He can only just be fresh out of college, if he even went."

I think, say: "Must be true about him and Dalloway then."

**A/N:**

**Review? Don't make me beg...**


	11. Chapter 11

**BPOV**

**11**

"Bee, Mason said can I go to his house to play on Saturday?"

"Where's Sue? Ask her." I drop the keys on the side table. Launch my bag at the bottom of the stairs and take off my coat, hat, gloves.

"She's in bed. I asked her and she told me to go away." I raise my eyebrows. Wait. Em scowls. Then continues reluctantly: "I said it's our house so she can go away herself and then she started crying and I thought she was gonna hit me so I ran away." Nice touch, adding your thoughts, Em; he's learning guilt tactics. I make him sit on the bottom step of the stairs. Tell him to think about what he's done.

In the kitchen, I boil water, prepare herbal tea. _Jasmine, _says the box. I pass Emmett on my way upstairs. He's sulking, head in hands and pout in place. I ignore him. Turn left in the hallway and stop outside a door left ajar. The hallway lights flood in and Sue stirs under the covers of the bed. The room is hot, sweltering, but she's shivering. I put the tea on the bedside table and crank the heat down. Push back the covers and feel her temperature. She's radiating warmth like a road in heat.

In the en suite, I find her pills. Head back into the bedroom and drop two into the tea. Wait. Then make her sit up. I watch as she drinks it. Her face, pale and unwashed, is waxy with sweat and lack of sleep. I get a hairbrush from the bedside drawer; attempt to sort her hair out. She groans, I give up.

In the bathroom again, this time for a washcloth. Soaked in water, unscented, I bring it back to her. Wipe her face gently, she nuzzles me like a child. I push her back into the pile of pillows. They plump up around her face, under the familiar weight of her head.

I take the empty cup and leave the room. Shut away her misery, her pain.

Downstairs, Emmett has migrated to a patch of carpet in front of the TV, engrossed in a nameless cartoon.

The phone rings, I pick it up. Quiet.

"Bella?"

"Dad."

"How's Sue? I won't be home tonight." Like that's unpredictable.

"She was burning up. I gave her pills."

"How many?"

"Two."

Dad sucks in a breath. "Don't make her too dependent on them. She'll never let it go."

Something bristles in my throat, laughter or anger.

"OK."

Quiet. And then: "Well, I'll see you tomorrow. Got another emergency." And there goes Saint Charles Swan at the beck and call of his never-ending mission of heroism.

In the kitchen, I start dinner.


	12. Chapter 12

**BPOV **

**12**

"Mr Cullen!"

He stops but doesn't turn. The boy spins around, his face still dwarfed by the drawn up hood of his oversized coat. I suddenly realise my hands are warm with sweat.

I clear my throat. Green Eyes tenses.

"We – that is, Emmett and I – would like to invite Mason over to our house." I didn't mean to sound so formal. Emmett tries not to squawk in excitement.

Green Eyes swerves to face us. Says: "Why?" Head cocked, lips pressed together. His eyes are cold, sharp shards of brilliant green. He looks older than twenty-one.

"For a play date. With Emmett. I like to keep an eye on him, which is why I suggest my house. Plus, I can cook a little meal for the kids." I've said the wrong thing. Or he's taken it the wrong way; his eyes grow colder, mouth presses more firmly and he straightens up. Does he think I don't trust him, young and handsome and college-aged, with my baby brother? Maybe I don't. I chance a glance at Mason. He's staring up at me, wide green eyes showing a premature intelligence rarely seen in four-year-olds.

"No." Doesn't beat around the bush, this one. They are half-way down the sidewalk before Emmett's lethal combination of doe-eyes and dimples catches me before I can put up my defences and I go after them.

"Wait! Please," I say and jog after Green Eyes. He walks a few more steps – just to make me jog further, I'm sure – and then faces me with an arrogant sneer. "Mason doesn't want to go."

"Have you asked him?" I raise an eyebrow. His gaze flits down to the boy, who is watching an ant scuttle in the dirt.

Green Eyes raises his chin indignantly. "Why Mason? I'm sure your brother has lots of other friends."

I can feel the underlying anger in his voice. He is venomous, for some reason. And then I realise why: he thinks I feel sorry for Mason. He thinks I'm asking him out of pity, not because Emmett and Mason are friends. Does Mason not tell him these things? Does he not sit at the kitchen table and go through his entire day, babbling about his new friends and his new teacher and what he played at recess?

I suck in a startled breath. Watch the defiance play out across Green Eyes' face. And say: "Mason is Emmett's _best _friend; he doesn't shut up about him at dinner time. Did you know, they have their own little club together! Apparently, they've spent all their club meetings planning what they're going to do when they meet up. Em asked me last night whether he could play with Mason outside of kindergarten and of course, I said yes. And so…yeah…I was just wondering if…um, Mason could come over?"

Green Eyes stares at me, mouth agape, obviously stupefied by my unexpected mouth vomit. Em comes and stands beside me, smiling shyly at Green Eyes, mouth spread wide in order to show as much of his dimples as possible. He has been practising this look in the mirror. I can tell Green Eyes is convinced by my short ramble. He runs a hand through his hair and I try not to gawk.

"Fine," he growls and we are victorious.

**A/N:**

**How old am I?**


	13. Chapter 13

**BPOV**

**13**

"He broke up with me," says Rose, and bursts into tears. I lock the door to the girls' bathroom. Get a wad of tissue paper and run it under the warm water tap. Rose sniffles and exhales heavily.

"Thanks," Rose sniffles. I wipe her face, the mascara trails on her cheeks. She tells me what happened as she reapplies her make up. Royce cornered Rose on her way to school. Rose provoked him into punching a brick wall. James drove past and saw them. Royce insinuated Rose was an expert on his sexual prowess. After insulting Rose, James dumped her and drove back home.

I take Rose to the nurse's room and Miss Barker shoos me off to class. It's art class and Cavanaugh is busy with another group, not paying any heed to who enters his classroom. Lauren and Angela are deep in discussion. I join them. Place my bag on the floor.

"Bella," Lauren says. She has taken charge. "Ang and I are gonna go to the library to take some books out. We need you to photocopy the info we've found in these ones so I've marked off a bunch of pages for you." I nod and take the books. We leave the room without asking for permission – Cavanaugh let's us come and go.

The photocopier is in the library and, leaving Angela and Lauren as they head for the art section, I make my way to a couple of tall bookshelves, behind which the photocopier is. Turning the corner, I immediately wish I had followed Lauren and Angela. Green Eyes leans against the machine, shirt sleeves rolled up, tattoos on full display and Madame La Vette admiring them a little too closely. The French teacher looks up as I stop uncertainly by the book shelf. She glowers at me and moves away from Green Eyes, who stares, wide-eyed, jaw clenched. Unable to let my pride go, I head towards the copier machine and open up the first book. Neither teacher makes a move to leave. To say the silence is awkward would be an understatement. I am mortified. And, more surprisingly, furious. I slam the books onto the copy machine and the pages print off quickly. I avoid eye contact and remain silent, not because I don't know what to say but because I want them to be uncomfortable for as long as possible.

The copy machine abruptly stops. I thump it, as most people do, and still, it stubbornly refuses to work. I check to make sure there's paper, ink, the green light of submission. Madame La Vette picks up a pile of books and hands a scrap of paper to Green Eyes. I catch a neat little row of numbers. Look away before he can catch me. She leaves and we are left alone. I suddenly wish she had stayed. I can smell his cologne. Something spicy? Sweet? Both. Apple – no, cinnamon, sugar, a streak of ginger. I thump the machine again, desperately this time. Before I can object, Green Eyes leans across me, over me, his arm almost around my shoulder. I tense. He restarts the machine. I am lost in his smell, in the confusing art on his skin, the corded muscles of his neck. And then Angela and Lauren turn the corner and drop their books.


	14. Chapter 14

**BPOV**

**14**

I start the engine. Green Eyes and Angela watch from their respective cars. In the rear-view mirror, I see Bruce and Jackie waving madly at Angela. Mason is silent and stares at his Spider-Man backpack. In the passenger seat, Em rambles excitedly.

"…my room and then we can play outside and I can show you my bike and the pond and the mini waterfall and the rocks but I can't show you the woods because Bee says you can't go there because she says there's wolves with huge, sharp teeth and they eat little kids and I don't wanna be eaten 'cause then Bee will just steal my toys or give them to the Church and then what will I play with?"

We wind up the long path through the woods to our house. Bruce and Jackie gasp. Mason's eyes grow huge. Through their eyes, I see the house: it's large, white sandstone, glass and wood and fancy flowers. The front yard is groomed like royalty and with the unusually clear sky framing it, the house looks like something from a picture book. Emmett jumps out before I stop the engine and pulls open the back door. The twins leap onto the even lawns and race each other to the front door. Emmett, torn between joining them and inviting Mason, chooses the latter. He climbs in and unbuckles Mason's seatbelt. I climb out of the car. Mason slides out, too. He stares at his surroundings in wonderment.

I usher the kids inside with the promise of ice cream. They put sprinkles and jelly babies and strawberry sauce on them, giggling and shrieking. Mason is quiet, silent, and decorates his ice cream with a single green jelly baby. Afterwards, the kids run outside and Emmett gives them all a tour of the spacious garden. I watch them as I heat up the spaghetti I had prepared yesterday. I pile up six bowls and bring five to the dining room table. Emmett leads the twins and Mason back inside like the Pied Piper. Once they are settled at the table, I put the last bowl of pasta onto a serving plate, along with a cup of herbal tea and a tall glass of water.

Upstairs, Sue is lying awake in bed, tears running silently down her cheeks. I place the tray on her bedside table. Her eyes are blank. I feel my throat dry up. I dread what I know, what I can predict is coming.

"Please, don't…" Sue whimpers, her eyes huge, glassy, seeing something she shouldn't. "It hurts …you're hurting me!" She suddenly screams, an ear-piercing scream, a terrible sound. My breath comes out ragged and I sink onto the bed beside her and pull her into my arms.

"It's OK, Sue. You're OK…I've got you, it's just me, it's Bella." I rub her back in an attempt to calm her. Her sobs are muffled in my shoulder.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I won't do it again…" she wails. I stay until she quietens and find the sleeping pills in the bathroom cabinet. I put two into the water and help her to drink. She is asleep within minutes, but even with the pills it is fitful.

**A/N:**

**Sorry for the long update, reality is taking over :( I adore your kind comments, please keep them coming. Next chapter up soon, maybe tomorrow ;)**


	15. Chapter 15

**BPOV**

**15**

I don't normally hate silence. I like silence when it is so comfortable that there is no need to fill the air with ephemeral words. I like silence when I am alone, my thoughts and I left alone. This silence is not comfortable at all.

Dad sits at the head of the dinner table. Em sits across from me, staring at his plate dispassionately. I force some tasteless, nameless meat into my mouth, down my throat. We are a mockery of the nuclear family; the perfect father, the dutiful daughter and the well-behaved son. The estranged mother. And Sue. For all the attention Dad gives her, she might as well be a fixture on the bed.

I wish I could say it wasn't always like this. But it has been, ever since I can remember.

Dad chews thoughtfully. Says: "So, tell me what you two have been getting up to."

I shrug when Emmett remains silent. "School. Homework and all that."

"Ah, yes. Keeping on top of your classes? And what about you, Emmett? How's pre-school?"

Dad stares at Em expectantly.

"He's made a new friend," I rush in. "Tell Dad about your friend, Em."

Emmett glares at his plate but when he speaks, his voice is quiet and soft. "His name's Mason."

"He's new to Forks," I explain to Dad.

"Where did he move here from?" Dad asks Emmett.

"Chicago."

"I'll bet it's a big change, huh." Dad smiles as if he's made a joke. Neither Emmett nor I get it so we keep our mouths shut.

"How's Sue been?" Dad asks. Faces me. As if she isn't upstairs and he can't just go and check on her himself. I don't know why he's asking me – _he's_ the doctor.

"She's lapsing. I'm giving her sleeping pills but sometimes they don't work." I shut up. Glance at Em. He's building a tower out of cucumber slices. Seemingly oblivious to our conversation but I know how perceptive he is. He will ask questions later. I take a sip of water. Clear my throat. "I don't think she's getting any better."

"She _will _get better." Dad says this which such conviction in his voice that I almost believe him. But then I remember yesterday, her tears and blank eyes, the uncontrollable sobs. Before I had left her, she had made me remove the board covering the window, double check the locks and then nail it back into place. I had shut the door behind me – sometimes she liked it wide open but once in a while, she requested the door be shut completely and the lights inside the room to be turned on.

Just as I was about to head back downstairs, Mason had walked out of the bathroom at the end of the hall. He was carrying his backpack. He had avoided my eyes when I asked him if something was the matter and then rushed downstairs.

When Green Eyes had come to pick him up, he was off and in the car before I had stepped onto the driveway. They wasted no time in peeling out of the gates and disappearing into the trees.

"Oh, I forgot to mention," says Dad, hauling me back to the present. "I won't be here next week. Conference in Seattle. I'll probably be back next Saturday, Sunday at the latest."

My gaze flickers to Emmett, who is staring at Dad with wide, confused eyes.

"Dad," I say. "It's parent-teacher day at pre-school for Em next week." I do not look at Emmett.

Dad frowns. "You know this conference is important. There will be more parent-teacher meetings in the future."

Quietly, Emmett slips out of his chair and leaves the room. His plate is almost full. Dad exhales a long sigh. I stand up and begin to clear the table.


	16. Chapter 16

**BPOV**

**16**

I hear music and head down the hallway. It is lunch time, and the hallways are empty, all the kids in the cafeteria or outside.

Piano music, soft and lilting. Instinctively, I know exactly who the player is before I even step into the room. Green Eyes sits at the piano bench, eyebrows furrowed, shoulders tense. Long, slender fingers whisper along the keys and it looks so intimate, so sensual, that I feel a shiver stroke down my spine. The melody goes on for some time before he cuts it off abruptly.

"I can't play with people watching," he says, and his voice is soft. The sleeves of his crisp white Oxford are rolled up to his elbows. The tattoos on his arms ripple when he turns to face me. His eyes are bright, startlingly green.

I bite my lip. Almost miss his darting glance to my mouth. I convince myself I did it subconsciously and not to get a reaction. "You must not be very good in front of crowds, then."

He does not smile. Instead, he runs a hand roughly over his face and through his hair, making it more disarrayed than ever. He opens his mouth to speak but rudely, I cut him off with: "Would you teach me how to play?"

He stares at me, incredulous. I don't know who is more surprised – me or him. His mouth opens and closes for a moment.

"Never mind," I choke out through my embarrassment. "I don't know where that came from, forget I said it."

I turn and hurry down the corridor, face burning with mortification. In the girls' room, I bump into Lauren. Her gaze shifts to mine while she applies mascara. My practiced gaze takes in her red eyes, her trembling hands, artificial smile. Before I can ask, she shakes her head, raven hair rippling behind her.

"Not now. I can't." She says it softly, vulnerably.

I respect her and leave, colliding with a hard chest. For a brief moment, I think it is Green Eyes. Royce looks surprised for a second before he smirks. Up close, I finally see him from Rose's eyes. He has an unconventionally handsome face, a crooked nose and jewel-bright eyes, blue. He used to style his hair in an upright coif but it hangs casually around his face, an organized mess.

"Have you seen Rose?" he asks, voice rough and boyish. His nonchalant façade fails to hide the hopeful gleam in his eyes.

"No," I say, honestly and then: "Sorry," because his face falls.

"She's avoiding me," he says and I smile at him, he's serious about her.

"Have you tried calling her?" he nods, I say: "She's a romantic but not clichéd – no roses, restaurants or walks on the beach. Take her cliff-diving, I can hook you up with a guy I know."

He looks surprised and grateful and the way his eyes change – he's looking at me in a new light.

"You're a doll," he says, back to cocky bad-boy and giving me a wink and his number on a scrap of paper torn from a flyer on the wall. Before turning the corner, he calls over shoulder: "Call me with a date and time, sweet cheeks!" I can't help but smile and fold his number into the pocket of my jeans. Look up, ready to go find Rose. Green Eyes is marching back down the hallway and in his steps, I read anger.

**A/N:**

**Long time I know, chapters will get longer. **


	17. Chapter 17

**BPOV**

**17**

My plan was to knock on the door, hope Mason answered it, call for Emmett, rush him into the car and then drive all the way home with no intention of seeing Green Eyes. This plan is thwarted by the devil himself, who stands in his doorway in a rumpled white Oxford and low-slung jeans. I dawdle for a brief moment in my car, consider beeping my horn and forcing Emmett out of the apartment. Sigh, turn off the engine, climb out, reluctant.

Green Eyes watches me from under heavy golden sunburnt lashes, sipping from a Playboy mug. He has not shaved. I step up to the door and wait for him to move. He leads me into his apartment, ground floor. When I had dropped Emmett off earlier, Green Eyes had been in the shower and Mason opened the door. I had waved and turned and left when I heard Green Eyes call from inside the apartment. Now, I have no choice but to follow him inside. It smells stale, a lingering afterthought of something pungent and acidic, windows dusty, carpet threadbare. The lounge looks into the kitchen intrusively and a short hallway leads into a small bedroom and a single bathroom. Beside it is another door, left a little open. Green Eyes opens it fully, shedding light inside onto Em and Mason.

It looks like a storage room with shelves stacked high with boxes. A large cot with the side bars removed presses up against the farthest wall. A small cardboard box half-full of toys sits mournfully beside a holdall bag left unzipped, clothes spilling out. Emmett and Mason sit on the bed with an old biscuit tin stuffed with what, in the brief glance I get before Mason snaps it shut, looks like old photos.

"Mason. Emmett needs to go home now," Green Eyes says, huffs impatiently. Mason stares studiously at the floor before getting up dutifully. I do not miss the way he avoids Green Eyes' gaze or when he shoves the biscuit tin underneath the cot. Emmett leaps towards me with his doe eyes and pout ready to fire but I roll my eyes, grab his Toy Story backpack and turn to leave. He doesn't say anything until we are outside the apartment (Green Eyes does not show us to the door). I think he is being sullen until I look down at him and see that his cheeks are bulging. Pausing on the pathway, I take up my stern-adult stance, hands on hips, eyebrow raised, lips pursed.

"What's in your mouth?"

Emmett shifts uneasily before mumbling: "Gobbsobber."

"A gobstopper?" I sigh impatiently, desperation to get away from this stale, soundless house making me short with him. "Spit it out." I hold my hand out and reluctantly, a blue ball of sugar, slimy with saliva, slides into my palm. The apartment trashcans are right next to the door. I lift up the lid of the one with G painted on it, hold my breath against the powerful stench and drop the sweet in. It doesn't make a sound. I peek over the top, see a growing mountain of soiled diapers, rush back to Emmett quickly and strap him into place.

Em babbles all the way back to our house. I think about the trashcan with its G face. I think about the building with only four tenants, Green Eyes, Mason and a gay couple who live upstairs, I met them before leaving Emmett. I think about Mason, the soiled diapers, the strange, stale smell of the apartment, the acidic tinge which I now recognise as human urine.

We get home and I leave Em in front of the TV with a cartoon, head upstairs to the bathroom. Dig through the trashcan under the sink, unearth cardboard toilet rolls and stray bits of toilet paper. A translucent green bag with a diaper in it and I think of Mason, the day he came over, the day Sue blanked out, the day he snuck out of the bathroom with his Spider Man backpack, as if he had committed a crime, his face blank, eyes averted and ashamed.

I think of Green Eyes and how much I hate him.

**A/N:**

**I know, I'm a terrible updater. For those who have asked, I'm sixteen, British and a college student. 13'000+ views = more reviews, por favor? Thank you for the kind comments, I love all your theories. Anybody know what's wrong with Sue yet? Next few chapters might help ;)**

**Thank you for reading. **


	18. Chapter 18

**BPOV**

**18**

I hear Dad's voice down the hall and crawl out of bed. It is dark out, quiet, silent, this side of the world is sleeping. Sue's whimpers reach me before the narrow light of her bedroom light does as it lays slanted on the cream carpet. Dad listens to her and murmurs a reply, Sue chokes out a sob and then it is muffled. I risk a step forward, thankful for the thick carpet that hides any would-be floorboard creaks.

In the sliver of emptiness where the door meets the frame I hone in on Dad, who sits on the carpet beside Sue's bed. Her shoulders shake; she cries into the pillow and I see the dark wet patches the tears leave when she shifts her head.

"I want them…I need them…" she moans and Dad shakes his head gently.

"I can't, sweetheart, you know we can't. You'll never get over it, you need to try without them. We can try, you can do it, Sue, I know you can. What happened –"

"No…" Sue groans and curls up. "I can't, I can't I can't I can't – I won't – I'll die!"

I sneak back to my room and shut the door behind me. Dad leaves Sue's room and heads to his own a few minutes later. Sue wails and cries and screams and shrieks and drives Emmett awake, into my bed, where he will stay until I shake him awake in the morning for school, dried tear tracks the only remnants of the night before.

The crying lasts almost a half hour before Dad's own selfishness leads him to the bathroom cabinet and he unearths the sleeping pills for her.

-0-

Dad leaves before we wake in the morning. I shower, brush my teeth, my hair, make breakfast, cereal. Em pads into the kitchen sleepily as I'm setting the table. He doesn't mention Dad or Sue or waking up in my room.

"Bee, can we go to the shops after school?" he asks after a thoughtful chew.

"What do you need, Em?" I pour two glasses of orange juice and prepare a tray for Sue.

"It's Mason's birthday on Friday. I wanna get him something."

I smile, nod, shake off the anger that the reminder of Green Eyes brings. "Sure Em. Do you know what he likes?"

Emmett's brow furrows and he pouts thoughtfully, then sullenly. "No."

"Why don't you ask him?" I suggest, begin to clear up the bowls.

"That would ruin the surprise, Bee!" says Em, exasperated.

As we settle into the car, Emmett suddenly has an idea. "I know! You can ask his dad – he works in the big school and you go there and you can ask him what Mason likes and then we can go and get it and he'll love it and we can be even bester friends!"

"No." I shake my head, turn the indicator on and the traffic lights. I can't think of anything much more humiliating than heading straight up to Green Eyes and asking him something so personal, something I am now sure is possible that he won't even know the answer to.

"Why not?" asks Emmett, bemusement evident in his tone.

I do not look at him.

"He's a teacher, Em. It would be inappropriate."

I hate lying to him.

Em does not speak to me until we get to the preschool. I think, desperately, of other things I can do to find Mason the perfect present.

"Em," I begin, unsure of what I am going to say.

"It's OK," he cuts me off in a small voice. He unbuckles his seatbelt, picks up his backpack, opens the door. "Forget it, Bee."

I watch him trundle down the sidewalk, his Toy Story backpack bobbing against the backs of his legs as he drags it behind him.


End file.
